Forbidden Touch
by dragons lover
Summary: Draco's up to something, and Hermione feels that it's her duty to find out. What she discovers may change her forever. Please R&R. The rating may be lowered or raised depending on how the story goes.
1. Part One

**Forbidden Touch** – Part One

**Disclaimer:** Surprisingly I don't own these characters, the setting etc. Yes, it is true; I have stolen them for my own evil purposes. Sorry JK. But, this world will be mine, even if it is only for one little story.

**A/N:** Okay. So this is the 'revised' edition of my first ever fic. I decided that the original didn't 'flow' nicely, so I am changing it ever so slightly. Enjoy.

You may now proceed.

Hermione sat straight up in fright she had been having a nightmare. _What was that all about? _She thought to herself

Suddenly she was jerked back to earth by the realisation that there was something on the wall in front of her. It was a bug of some sort. Jumping out of her bed, she ran over to the wall and trapped it in the glass that had been sitting conveniently on her nightstand. She put it on the desk. Upon her thorough inspection she found circles around the eyes and a scar on its leg. It was her; it was Rita Skeeter. But why was she in this dorm, had she mistaken it for Harry's dorm? Rita never neglected the opportunity to get any information on him.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she sat down at her desk for a little bit of revision before making her way to breakfast.

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After having crammed her entire bookshelf into her carry bag, she went down to the Great Hall. She saw that Harry and Ron were already stuffing their faces, and, rolling her eyes, she joined them.

"What are you guys doing? Don't you realise how close the exams are?" Hermione was, to say the least, annoyed that they were yet to begin studying. Rightfully so, considering she had been up until 3am one morning organising timetables for them so that had maximum 'leisure' hours with at least 5 hours of homework a day, more on weekends.  
"Hermione, the exams aren't until **after** Christmas break, we have **ages**." Ron whinged. "If we begin to study now, by the time we start exams we'll have forgotten all that we learnt now. So really, it's for the best." Ron finished, pleased that he had made, what he considered to be, such a convincing argument. Harry looked to Hermione, shrugged as if he agreed simply because he had nothing better to do, and continued eating greedily.

Hermione rolled her eyes once again, and grabbed one of the biggest books out of her bags, '_Pernicious Potions – Level 6'_. Looking up from her book to ponder why one would want to make a potion that would kill someone and revive them moments later, she noticed that a certain blonde haired Slytherin was looking at her. His facial expressions did not show malice, or animosity, nor did he show any other signs of emotions. It was a hollow stare, and it sent chills down her spine. Then she remembered the dream, or rather nightmare, to which her premature rousing could be attributed. The memory of it lingered in her brain. Her dream had been about her, surprisingly. She had been in a dark room, there was someone in the room with her, though shadows covered there face. Hermione wondered who they could be. Yet, she was rudely brought out of her trance by what seemed to be a distant calling.  
"Hermione?" It turned out to be Harry.  
"What?" Hermione said shaking her head and turning to face Harry.  
"Do you want some?" he repeated.  
"Some, what?" Hermione said, finding it hard to grasp what Harry was saying. She saw the lips move. She heard sounds come out. Yet, she couldn't work out what he was saying.  
"Some toast. What's wrong with you?" Harry asked simply.  
"Nothing." Hermione said flatly. Chuckling to herself about the irony. Harry had asked such a simple question, and he had asked it in such a simple way, yet, it led to such a complicated answer.   
"I've got to go to the library, sorry, I'll see you in..." she referred to her timetable, "potions" she said, a strange sensation coming over her. It was as though suddenly a spider's nest had hatched in her stomach and the spiders were all running in different directions trying to escape.

She quickly scurried off to her room, not really feeling like studying right now. This was strange, as studying normally relaxed her, gave her a sense of understanding. She sat on her bed, thinking about the morning's events. 'Who was that in the shadows? Why did Draco, or his look, trigger the memory? What was Rita doing in my room?' Deciding that her time would be wasted if she went to Potions, she mustered all her strength and decided to skip class. For most, this was at least a weekly ritual, for Hermione, however, it showed how confused she was. She went to her 'temple', the library.

"Hi Madame Pince. Nice day, isn't it?" she said, in what she hoped was a happy, natural, tone.  
"Why, Miss. Granger, I was unaware that you had a spare. Hmm. Must have been my mistake. Sorry, your normal books may have been returned to the shelves, had I known you were coming I would have put them aside for you." Madame Pince said apologetically.  
"Oh. Don't worry about it. I wasn't going to come here now, only, I needed time alone." Hermione said relieved. "Anyway, I have brought most of my books with me." She said, patting her overloaded satchel.

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Hermione walked into the Great Hall hoping to be unnoticed. She slowly walked over and sat next to Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table.   
"Hermione." Ron said, acknowledging her presence. "Where were you in potions, there was this really difficult potion we had to brew, and we **really** needed your help?"  
"Oh, sorry. I had to go to Hospital Wing, I had a bit of a headache." She lied, although she was unsure why.  
Looking toward the Slytherin table she started talking to Harry. "What do you think they're little 'private meeting' is about this time? The entire group of sixth year Slytherins had gathered around none other than Draco Malfoy. "Maybe they are trying to work out how they can defeat you in this weekend's Quidditch match. I hope you beat them. I couldn't stand if they won Quidditch, especially considering how good the Gryffindor team appears on paper."  
_Is it my imagination or did Malfoy glance over here. He must be up to something. He's been acting more strangely, if that is possible._ she thought to herself.  
"Do you want the Potions notes, 'Mione?" Harry asked reaching for his bag.  
"Yeh! That'd be great!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry then passed her a pile of parchment from Potions. With that, Hermione bid them goodbye, and went up to her dorm to collect her books for Transfiguration.

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Meanwhile, in the opposite side of the castle, Draco was pacing his room. _What the hell did she want? Why did she keep looking at me? It gives me the chills, stupid Mudblood. How dare she look at **me**. Why does this bother me so much? I must contact her. I have to discover what her look was for, what it meant. But, no-one can know. If it got out that I had contacted a Mudblood, well… it wouldn't be pretty._  
With that, Draco went down to the common room, grabbed a piece of parchment and a fine quill, sat down in what he liked to call 'his chair' and began his letter. When he got to the end, he pondered whether he should sign it or not. _If the stare meant anything, she would know it was me without my name, if it didn't, she need never know. _With that, he read through his letter, put it in an envelope, and wrote on the back, 'Do not open in front of prying eyes.

**A/N:** Good? Please review. I love reviews. _Constructive_ criticism only. I would really like some ideas on style, etc. Thanks.


	2. Part Two

**Forbidden Touch **– Part Two

**Disclaimer:** As I stated before I don't own any of these characters.

**A/N:** Thankyou to superziggy2000 and choirchickMG, my first reviewers.

Proceed.

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Hermione woke up drowsily; she hadn't got much sleep as she had been studying for her Arithmacy test. She got up, dressed, and then went down to the common room. When she realised that there was 30 minutes to study still she went back up to her dorm and grabbed some 'supplies'.

Hermione walked back down to the common room her arms full. She was carrying 12 books, 15 quills, 6 bottles of ink and a stack of parchment 20cm high.  
"Wow 'Mione! Why have you got so much stuff we only have half an hour?" Harry said, jumping up and grabbing the parchment, quills and bottles of ink.  
"Hi 'Mione" said Ron seeming rather pre-occupied.  
"Hi" said Hermione almost falling head first down the stairs. "What's wrong?" she asked after re-gaining her balance and putting her stuff on the table.  
"Nothing" Ron said, red filling up in his face. _Why won't she like me? Will she ever, I want her for me? Who does she like, she couldn't ever like me?_

Half an hour later Hermione walked into the Great Hall, automatically she looked longingly towards… him. She didn't know why, but he _'made her'_ look at him; she wouldn't help it. Realising that he too was looking at her, she quickly diverted her eyes. Her cheeks filled with red, as did Draco's.  
_Why does she keep doing that? More to the point, why was I looking at her?_ Something inside Draco seemed like it wanted to shout the answer, but it didn't. His thoughts dissolved as he saw Ron run in, he really didn't like that stupid git.

"Hey! Weasel, why don't you just give it up? She obviously doesn't like you!" _Okay Draco. That is just too strange. How would you know who she likes? And why did you say that in such a defensive tone? Hmm… I think I should lie down, obviously I'm not feeling too well._  
"Why don't you shut it, Malfoy? No one here **cares** what you think!" Hermione said, yet her voice seemed less ferocious then it should have. No-one but Draco seemed to notice. Ron just sat down seeming intent on glaring his food into his stomach; he was blushing furiously.  
"Touchy, touchy, Granger. Does that mean that you do, actually, like that Weasel?" Draco commented, a smirk on his face. Yet, there was a certain air of pleading in his voice, very unbecoming of a Malfoy. With that, Draco returned to eating his food; as did Hermione after throwing Draco a final glare.  
_This is going to be a long day. Fortunately, the post is due to arrive any minute; hopefully his troubles would soon be put to rest. _Just as Draco began to get restless, the Post arrived. He looked up, searching for the owl that carried his perfect letter. _I do hope she replies soon._ Draco surprised himself with those thoughts, but found that they were true. He believed that all his troubles would be solved with her reply to his letter. Thus, he was impatient, and it was noticeable.  
"What's with you Draco? Annoyed that your father hasn't sent you your care package for today." Pansy asked in a mock-patronising tone.  
"Shut it Parkinson." Draco replied snappily. Pansy looked at him concerned. Draco added a quite "Sorry. But just drop it." With that he stood up and exited the Great Hall. _What is wrong with you? Why are you so hung up on this?_ Frustrated, he began to make his way towards the common room. He had not made it far when he heard footsteps behind him, he turned around, a voice in the back of his head hoping it was Hermione, and saw Pansy.  
"Look, Draco, I don't know what's wrong, but you know you can talk to me, don't you?"  
"I know. I just don't know what's going on, okay?" Draco let out a sigh.   
"Is it about your father? Has something happened?"  
"No he's quite alright; better than actually. I just don't know what's going on in my head right now. I can't, and don't want to, explain it." Pansy put her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. They proceeded to the common room.

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Ron was still blushing. He looked up from the table, and, trying to subtly change the subject informed his friends that the post had arrived.  
Hermione looked up, then went back to her food, but was promptly interrupted by an owl pecking lightly at her hand. She looked up, slightly surprised, and then began unravelling the string by which the note was attached to the owl. She read the small writing, which she didn't recognise, it read: 'Do not open in front of prying eyes.' Assuming that this meant Harry and Ron, she put the letter in her pocket.  
"What was the 'Mione?" Harry asked curious.  
"Oh. Erm. Nothing, it was just a letter from mum. She said she write me as soon as the got to France." Hermione said, hoping that her slight pause wouldn't be noticed.  
"You didn't tell us that they were going to France. Are they having fun?" Harry replied.  
"Oh, yes, of course. Erm. I have to go to the library; I have an Arithmacy test next week." Hermione said airily, rushing out of the Great Hall. She had every intention of reading the letter; however, it seemed that fate had other plans.   
"Miss Granger, I wonder if you would come in here, I would like to discuss your subject selections for next year." Professor McGonagall had just appeared from the room adjacent to the Great Hall.  
"Hello Professor." Hermione said, slightly dejected. "Is there something wrong with them?"  
"Oh, no, of course not. Quite the opposite in fact. But please, come in here." She said, motioning to the classroom from which she had just appeared.

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Draco was in his room, pacing. _Why hasn't she replied? No-one ignores Draco Malfoy._ Then he stopped, remembering that he had not signed his name at the bottom of the letter. _Well, that is no excuse. Could someone have read it? It was probably that stupid git Weasley. _"When I get my hands on him…" Draco said menacingly.  
"When you get your hands on whom, Draco?" Pansy had just entered the room.  
"No-one." Draco said quickly."  
Pansy, unconvinced, repeated her question. "Who, Draco? Tell me."  
Draco, knowing the Pansy would not cease her attack until she had all the information, let out a sigh. "If you must know, Weasley."  
"Why, what has the little Weasel done now?" Pansy said disgusted by the thought of him.  
"I think he may have read a letter that I sent. That's all."  
"And how would he get a letter on one of your letters, Draco?" Pansy asked simply.  
"Because I sent a letter to his Mudblood friend, okay." Draco said, looking away. There was a pause, and Draco felt he needed to explain, "I had to." This was all he could think of in his defence.  
"Okay Draco. And pray tell why was this necessary?" Pansy said after fully processing what Draco had done.  
"It's just… she keeps looking at me. I needed to know why." Draco said, realising immediately how foolish he had been.  
Pansy looked up him, thinking. "I understand Draco, it must be infuriating."  
"That's just it Pansy. It isn't. I should find her gaze irritating, but I don't. Whenever she stares at me, I see… I see something in her eyes. It lures me. It plays with my head." Draco said, feeling as though a 200 pound weight had just been lifted from his chest. He was relieved, he was finally beginning to out what he felt in words.  
Pansy just looked at him; stunned by this revelation. "I know Pansy. This is why I had to write her. I had to find out what the look was for. What it meant. If I don't I will be continually thinking of it, pondering what it means. Don't worry, as soon as she replies, I will know, and all will be well." Draco said, comforting Pansy somewhat.  
"That's not what I'm worried about. Do you know what will happen if Weaselby tells people that you, Draco Malfoy, have been writing to a Mudblood?" Pansy said, obviously worried.  
"Come on Pansy. I'm not that careless. I didn't sign it." Draco said, a small smile playing on his face.  
"Then how will she reply. How will your questions be answered?" Pansy said, quite confused.  
"She will know. I know the looks mean something. If they don't, she won't reply. If she doesn't reply, I'll know they mean nothing. It is the perfect plan." Draco said, a smirk forming.

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**A/N: ** Hope you enjoyed this little addition. Tell me what you think about the progression (I hope that's a word, otherwise I'll look quite the fool.) so far. I will love you forever if you review.


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